In Case You've Wondered

My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.

If you're here for the stories, they can be found by clicking the labels button "stuff I made up".

One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.

I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.

Friday, October 31, 2014


...I will be hoarse. I spent the day teaching three bricks how to run a hot poured rubber joint sealing kettle, and to seal cracks in asphalt paving.

Like water soaking into a rock, the information will penetrate only to a shallow depth, and my inspiring diatribes will bounce around the earth; growing fainter and eventually only being an echo of a physically tiring day.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Calibration Hocus Pocus

There's been more than one report of electronic voting machines casting ballots in error. Observant voters caught the error, but there's not any way of knowing how many didn't.

What is a calibration error with an electronic voting machine? Somebody screwed up the computer code, whether intentionally, or by accident. I'd say both are responsible, but lean more to the intentional reason for most incidents. There is no "calibration". That's a word that is misused in this application.

Since voting machines are used by locals for entering candidate names, or ballot initiatives, the opportunity is there for fraud, and the data can easily be manipulated after an election.

The solution? No electronic voting. Paper ballots, voters get their finger dipped in indelible ink, and anyone caught intentionally trying to subvert votes is shot on sight. I have a feeling elections after this method is implemented would show a different view of the nation.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Analyze This

I wrote about my new cell phone the other day. Yesterday, an automatic survey called and asked me to take a survey. Being the nice guy I can be, I took it.

The first question was whether I thought the customer representatives did a good job. Using the options of entering a number between one and ten, with ten being most satisfied, I entered 10.

The next question was about my opinion of the cell company, with the same method of entering my opinion. I punched in a zero. I can't stand the company for what they did to my wife years ago. They screwed up a bill, wouldn't back down, so she told them to go suck eggs. She refused to pay thousands of dollars over what was usually a bill of a little over one hundred dollars.

After entering the zero, the computer generated babble creator wanted me to leave a message with my name and a reason I felt they deserved a zero. I hung up the phone. I don't give a crap about surveys and really didn't think they want to know my reason.

Today, I received a call from a strange area code. Due to past experiences with telemarketers, I let it ring; if it was important, they could leave a voice mail....they did.

A woman, with a name, was concerned about my reason for punching in a zero in their survey. I didn't even allow the voice mail to complete before I deleted it.

So what's the deal? My impression is they've finally realized they're losing revenue, and trying to find out why people think they're a huge cluster of puke shit ass wipes. It serves them right. If only a few percent of customers were screwed like my wife was, millions of dollars were at stake, and they didn't care to examine their crummy way of doing business and rectify the problems.

Monday, October 27, 2014

It's Official - I'm The Old Fart

Every industry has them: the old fart. I never thought I'd find myself in that position, but I can't deny facts.

As I was driving along, summarizing a comedy of errors, and thinking of how too many involved were what I consider woefully prepared for their position, I realized I was one of the old farts of the local construction industry. Out of thousands of workers, there are only a few like me; somewhere around 40 years experience, tired of the bullshit, and not as willing to pull miracles out of their asses each day to cover the inexperience of others.

So, I accept my position and growing apathy. I don't want an award, or anything else. What I want is a big bosom secretary, in a short skirt, to ride along with me all day and keep my coffee cup full.

Sexist? Damn straight. Being an old fart entitles me to be a dirty old man.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Some Things Make Me Wonder

I was shopping for some miscellaneous items and things for my lunch. I'd waited until late, since it was such a beautiful day; and I determined grocery shoppers would have completed their business so they could enjoy the last of a day with an azure sky, high temperatures in the mid seventies, and  a feel to the air that can only be described as wonderful.

When I finished, I looked at the checkout aisles, saw all had at least one person, and settled on one with one customer. There were two clerks helping the customer count a pile of change. Normally, I would have gone on to another aisle, but the situation was too unique to pass up, and I knew I could find something to write about, if I spent some time just observing.

The customer was buying a large pumpkin. Considering her size, it was a task to carry it. I'd say she was about eight years old. Her curly, dark blonde hair was unkempt; probably from the wind, or just needed brushing. She was wearing leopard skin capri stretch pants and a dark blue peasant blouse. Her horn rimmed glasses were almost too big for her face.

She turned every once in awhile to look behind; not to see who I was; it was more of a glance by someone looking for someone else. She returned my smile, when she finally looked at me, and quickly returned to watching the clerks delve through the piles of dime, nickles and pennies.

The eventually had enough change. One clerk completed the sale, and the other helped the young lady push the remaining change back into the zippered purse she had hung around her neck. When finished, she carefully spent some time making sure the zipper was completely closed, grabbed her pumpkin, and was gone.

The clerk gave me an apologetic look, so I commented: "You have to admire her for having the confidence to buy the pumpkin by herself." She smiled, told me how much I owed them for the small amount of groceries, and I was soon headed for my truck.

I looked around the parking lot, but the girl was gone. Whether she climbed into a waiting car, or disappeared into the local neighborhood, I'll never know. I do know such things make me wonder: Where were her parents? Were they outside waiting? If not, did they know their daughter was spending her money on a pumpkin? Does she even have a parent?

A girl that age alone is an oddity today. Considering how she was dressed, with the colors not really matching, and the need of a trim for her unkempt hair,  I'd wager she spends a lot of time on her own; wading through her youth with too many responsibilities she doesn't quite understand. Still, I admire her tenaciousness and ability to function with what she has. Hopefully, her experiences will lead to success; and she'll have the opportunity to laugh about her purchase of a pumpkin; way back in 2014. If not, and this is the only record of a unique experience on a beautiful Autumn afternoon, may it be enough. She deserves that much at least.